Princeton
by nemo1934
Summary: Three-parter. During the nth in a series of severely boring years, Kenny takes a long journey to see friends at Princeton. They include Kyle, who is more important to him than most people know. Will the trip be worth his while and brighten his boring year? K2.
1. Arrival

That weekend Kenny had a brilliant time. The bus ride to Denver on Friday was long. He listened to a lot of music on his iPod and watched the scenery go by. Denver had always seemed like a magical place. Tall buildings, people everywhere. It had a distinct feel. It couldn't be anywhere else _but _Denver. Of course, he hadn't nbeen to many other big cities. New York City, for instance. But he had spent enough time in Denver to know he liked it. He had toured colleges there before high school graduation, before his financial aid fell through and he settled on community college in Pueblo. After graduation, he had gone back with Stan and Kyle for a quick vacation, and that was the second time he'd been downtown. It was always a sheltered time there, anyway. And this time there was hardly any walking involved: walk from check-in through security to his gate at Denver International.

The airport was easy to navigate. Signs told you exactly where to go. The plane ride was a rougher experience, due to its length and the turbulence they met at the end. He fell asleep midway through, and when he woke up they were no longer few in number but covered all the ground below. By the time he reached Newark, the sky was turning pink.

He found the Amtrak station and paid for a ticket. By contrast with the airport, the Amtrak was confusing. They didn't seem to have posted sufficient information about much of anything. If he wanted to go to Princeton Junction, he had to take the train to Trenton, 60 miles south. But they didn't _say _that. It was fine, anyway, and Kenny ended up on the right train. It was a long train ride. When he got off at Princeton Junction, it was completely dark.

Kenny texted Wendy so she, Stan, and Token could head over to Princeton Station (a different station) to wait for him. From the Junction one takes the Dinky (another NJ Transit train, Kenny guessed lovingly retitled by the Princeton student body) about five minutes to Princeton Station. Kenny had happened to come in on the Dinky operators' dinner break, so he got to take a shuttle down the line to Princeton Station.

Wendy was waiting there. "Kenny!" she cried in greeting, and they hugged. Wendy was thin and small, and Kenny wondered if he'd grown. She fit snugly in his arms. Wendy always sounded genuinely happy to see him, and they broke apart he saw her happiness in her eyes. "Let me carry that for you," she said, reaching for Kenny's bag.

"No, please, I've got it," Kenny said, although his body was tired.

"Are you sure?" Wendy asked. "Stan and Token are over here on the other side of the station. I guess they didn't know the Dinky wasn't running." Kenny didn't know how they'd gotten separated in the first place. Maybe they weren't sure, and they said they would wait there and sent Wendy over to the bus stop. He followed Wendy across the platform, through the crowd that had left the shuttle.

"There they are," Wendy said, and Kenny saw Stan and Token sitting together on a bench by the tracks, talking quietly.

Kenny called out to them, and they turned their heads, grinning. "Hey," Token and Stan said together, also sounding happy. Kenny hugged Token first. If Kenny had grown it was nothing compared to Token, who had been working out more now that he'd started wrestling. Then he hugged Stan, who was as small as ever, but not quite as thin as Kenny. Stan was visiting from Colorado College and had been there since Wednesday. He was staying in Token's quad suite. "How's it going?" they all asked each other. Kenny saw Token had a big scab on the bridge of his nose, presumably from wrestling.

Even though it was almost nine, the three of them had agreed to wait for Kenny to eat dinner. Token and Wendy guided them first to Frist, the student center. The cafe there was very nice. There was sushi under the bar, and old political cartoons framed on the walls.

"This is where all the policy wonks hang out," Token explained when Kenny eyed the pictures.

"Policy wonks?" Kenny asked. They had moved over to the cash register, where Wendy was paying for Stan's pizza.

"That's what one of the professors here calls them," Token laughed. "You want me to buy your pizza?"

"No, I got it," Kenny said.

"Please?" Token said, giving Kenny a charming smile.

"No, thanks," Kenny said.

After paying, they took a seat at the table and talked openly without having to break the ice.

"I've come to love Britney Spears now," Token said at one point.

"Are you kidding me, Token?" Stan huffed. Wendy laughed.

"Especially _Blackout_," Token continued. "It's just so ebullient. I was afraid to play it at first, because her personal life seems so scary. But no, it's great. A lot of people are missing out because they dismiss her instantly, without listening to her music."

"I feel that way about Lil Wayne," Kenny said.

"Oh my god, you like Lil Wayne?" Wendy asked incredulously, laughing. "Kenny, what's happened to you?"

Kenny felt compelled to defend Lil Wayne, but he didn't really know why. He felt kind of stupid.

After a while of talking, a silence came over them. Kenny asked, "So what now?"

"Well, there's an improv show at 10 I want to go to," Stan said. "My roommate at CC, Isaac, you met him, he has a childhood friend who's in the group, and it's supposed to be pretty funny. I kind of want to go there to support Isaac."

"Support Isaac? He's not even in it!" Kenny said, jokingly.

"No, he's here, though," Stan said. "He's staying with him. His name's Dylan, and Dylan's in the improv group, and I said I'd go for him."

"It is a funny improv group," Wendy said. "I think they're called Fuzzy Dice."

"Okay, sounds good," Kenny said. "But let's wait for Kyle to go up. Where is Kyle?"

"Oh, he's doing training for his China program," Wendy told him. "That's a good idea, though, we should wait for him. Only I don't know when he'll come. Token, have you texted him?"

Token pulled out his phone.

People were painting t-shirts on the Frist lower level, just outside the cafe, at small round tables. It was pre-frosh weekend, so everything was dog and pony. While they waited for Kyle they finger-painted a t-shirt between those thick stone walls and under the high ceiling. There were many colors. Laughing, Token generously called their paintings abstract. But it ended up being a really cool shirt, which they didn't realize until they saw a picture they got a pre-frosh girl to take of them posing with it. There was a purple eye looking off to the side, surrounded by brown squiggly lines and orange smiley faces and other weird things. Kyle didn't show. Moseying on upstairs to the improv show, they left the t-shirt to dry, to pick it up later, but had forgotten about it within a few minutes. It became one of many abandoned t-shirts floating around Frist during pre-frosh weekend.

There was a _Starcraft _tournament going on in one room by a library. All Asians. Kenny, Wendy, Stan, and Token walked on, turned a corner, and reached the end of the hall, where a banner said, "Fuzzy Dice improv!" A small line waited outside a door to an auditorium. While waiting, Kenny looked around him at the old-looking hallway and read signs tacked up on a noteboard, and Token talked to Wendy about a class she was in. The two of them didn't meet often unless they had visitors. Finally, at the front of the line, they were told they needed tickets to get in. A blond girl in a Fuzzy Dice shirt said, "None of you is a pre-frosh, are you? I'm sorry. It's really a pre-frosh thing; everybody else has to pay. But if you come back in about five minutes and there's still space in the auditorium, then I can let you in."

So the four of them turned around and walked back to _Starcraft_, against the tide of people heading to the improv show. "You're not Asians," one of the contestants said, surprised, when they walked in. Wendy watched the action, projected on a white board, with a look somewhere between pity and amusement on her face. Finally Kenny tapped her shoulder, and they headed back to the improv show. By now the line of ticketed people had already gone in, and the blond girl, smiling at them, now said, "Go on in."

Isaac waved at them from two rows from the back. He and Kenny said "How's it going?" to each other and talked until the lights went down. But the show didn't end up being all that funny. The actors (one of whom was the girl who had let them in a minute ago) seemed to pick up steam during the third game, right after which Token, Stan, Wendy, and Kenny left. They had gotten to see Dylan introduce the second game, but he hadn't participated in any they'd seen. On the way out, a couple of Princeton students passed them. One was telling the other that Princeton had another, better improv troupe. Kenny remembered Cartman's run in University of Denver's unofficial improv group, and thought that would've kicked any show's butt.

Kenny walked slightly ahead of the group through the hall. He wasn't hearing what the others were talking about. He had a feeling they would run into Kyle in the hall, and Kenny would nonchalantly say, "Hey Kyle." And oddly, as soon as the four of them turned the corner, there was Kyle, walking toward them. Kenny nonchalantly said, "Hey Kyle," and they hugged.

"How's it going?" Kenny asked.

"Great," Kyle said, as the group unconsciously formed into a semi-circle around him. "I'm so excited right. There's a drag show tomorrow night at Terrace, I was just hearing about it. I'd love for you all to come."

"Terrace?" Stan asked.

"Ooh, that's Kyle's eating club," Wendy said.

"Eating club?" Kenny asked.

"It's a fraternity, basically," Token said.

As Kyle enthused about the drag show, Kenny found himself paying less and less attention. The conversation blurred, like objects had blurred more in high school as his vision had gotten worse, before his parents had sprung for contacts.

He heard Stan say, "Let's go outside," and Kyle agree, and then they were walking downstairs. Even the stairs looked like something out of a castle somewhere. They passed the cafe and walked out into the night. Outside of Frist they lay on the grass for a bit. Many multi-colored bikes were locked up in front of the student center. Bugs were buzzing around the lights in front of the building. The walking path was crowded with people heading to different activities. Nobody seemed to be alone, least of all the bugs. Kyle talked enthusiastically with Stan about the stars overhead and an astronomy class he was likely to take next semester. Token and Wendy talked quietly about academics. Token didn't seem very responsive; he too was looking up at the stars. Kenny felt Wendy lean toward him and heard her say, "Are you very tired, Kenny?"

"Yeah," Kenny said.

"Okay, I think Kenny and I are going back to my room," she said to the group. She and Token briefly wondered whether she would have enough blankets, but she decided it was probably okay.

They all hugged, and Kenny held Kyle especially tight. "I'm happy to be here," he said.

"I'm happy to have you," Kyle said, sounding wholeheartedly happy.

Kenny walked slowly with Wendy to her dorm. She began to explain why she didn't see Token and Kyle much, but seemed to decide to say something else instead. "Other than you," she said, "a lot of my old friends and I are hanging out in one-on-one situations for the first time, and I notice they're quite different there than in group settings."

"What do you mean?" Kenny asked.

"Sometimes it just feels awkward. Like, we usually end up talking about people from South Park High. It seems like just a deflection."

"Or a resort," Kenny said. "I guess people don't like to feel awkward."

"Yeah," Wendy said.

"You know, I feel that way about Kyle," Kenny said. "And to a lesser extent Token. Kyle's interests just seem like disguises. Like, he gets so excited about things, but I can never figure out why, and they always seem to conveniently distract from the deeper things that I'd like to talk to him about."

"Like what?"

"Well... I don't really know."

"And Token..."

"Token mostly keeps to himself. He just doesn't seem to reveal much about himself. I wonder how much he really knows."

"Hm," Wendy said.

Wendy had a lovely dorm in Whitman College. She set things up nicely for Kenny, with a sleeping pad and bag. In her single room she had a theremin and an electric piano. Tacked on the wall was a piece of paper with writing on it: "If bored: 1) Study 2) Practice piano 3) Read 4) Take a walk." A wide windowsill was home to several library Kerouac copies.

"I've gotten into him," she explained.

"I remember you doing that in high school," Kenny said. "You pick one out at a time, right, and read a ton?"

"Yeah, I did it back then with Murakami."

"And you read all his books."

"Yes. And I did the same for a couple other authors after I got here. I did it for Hemingway, who was, eh, just okay. And I did it with probably now my favorite author, Alexander McCall Smith."

"What did he write?" Kenny asked.

Wendy rattled off the names of some books Kenny had never heard of.

"Anyway," she said, "with Kerouac I started with _Dharma Bums_, and now I've got quite a few checked out. I don't know if I'll have time to read them, though."

"Why?" Kenny asked.

"Oh, just a lot of work," she said.

Kenny sometimes talked to Cartman on the phone, more often to him than anyone else, and he always said the same thing, that he was super busy. But Kenny always found himself with hardly anything to do. Admittedly, he blew off a lot of his homework, something he wasn't proud of. Sometimes he didn't really feel sure why he was in community college.

"What's your favorite Kerouac book?" he asked.

"Probably _Dharma Bums_, the one I started with." Kenny examined the cover and found he liked the colors, sort of teal and black. "Oh, and _Visions of Gerard_," Wendy continued. "It's sort of about his brother, who died when they were very young. It's sort of a portrayal of him as a saint, or a saint-like figure. I just like it because it seems more tender than most of Kerouac's writing."

Kenny pulled _Visions of Gerard _off the windowsill, and when they lay down to read a bit before bed, he opened it. It was more confusing than anything, but some of the descriptions were pretty. Meanwhile, Wendy read the newspaper, looking tired. Kenny thought that Wendy must have a good life. Living in that lovely dorm; checking books out of the library, reading them, exploring on her own time; learning Chopin; trying to learn the theremin. She was so studious, always had been. But she had never been so intense about it, and as focused on spending her time productively, as Kyle had been. Kyle loved to keep himself busy. Sometimes he seemed frantic to keep himself busy. And the more Kenny got to know him, the more the same seemed true of Token.

After asking Kenny if it was okay, Wendy folded up the newspaper, put it on the windowsill, and turned out the light. Kenny lay on his back, and listened while Wendy's breathing steadied. She was asleep. Kenny didn't know what he was lying awake for, but he felt a bit of sadness in his heart for Kyle. He always felt a bit of sadness for Kyle. That was the feeling that had characterized the past two years, since his and Kyle's brief fling, and before that there had been a bit of sadness for anything. But Kenny wasn't going to let that bit of sadness, which had followed him so closely over the years, hang over this trip. The last time he had seen Kyle and Wendy, in South Park, it had been the highlight of his year. So he was excited for the next day, and he meant to enjoy it to the absolute fullest-a resolution he had seldom if ever made before. That thought made Kenny feel good, and before long he fell asleep too, in his typical position. Arms folded lightly over his stomach, he looked like someone in a coffin, waiting to be buried or awaken.


	2. Claudius

**Princeton, Ch. 2**

The next morning Wendy and Kenny had a bit of time before brunch, and they took a walk around campus. Seeing it in the sunlight was the first time Kenny realized how beautiful Princeton was. Ivy covered everything; the whole campus was green. The architecture was consistently gothic (as Stan, who had an interest in architecture, had described it the previous night) and consistently beautiful (as Kenny exclaimed to Wendy).

"I'm just amazed," Kenny said, as they passed under a footbridge covered in ivy. "Everything here is so gorgeous. This may be the first time in my life when I'm saying 'amazed' and I'm not exaggerating."

"I love to walk around the campus," Wendy agreed placidly.

Kenny took a deep breath of the air. "It just feels great."

Kenny thought that maybe even in high school, when he was at his most apathetic and bummed out, he might've perked up and taken notice on a tour of the school. He still felt a little apathetic and bummed out. He liked slinking around in the Whitman College hoodie Wendy had loaned him to combat the chill (since he'd come unprepared, with only a t-shirt). The baggy hoodie, which fit neither of them, made him feel like a fuck-up who didn't quite belong. He liked that feeling. At the same time, he enjoyed the thought that anybody looking at him would think he was a Princeton student, albeit a lanky and shady one.

Wendy led him to an elaborate garden where several students were standing around, including some talking to an older man, probably a professor. "Students actually come here to hang out," Wendy said. "Ooh, can I get a picture of you by one of the flowerbeds?"

"Yeah," Kenny said, wishing his phone took better pictures so he could get a good one of her. Kenny put the hood down for the picture. After she had taken it, he didn't ask to see.

Continuing on their walk, they took a right onto the street where the eating clubs were. They passed students on their way to classes, all dressed in different styles. Some were quite dressed up. Kenny and Wendy stopped by an odd fountain. "I always liked this fountain," she explained, as she pointed out aspects of the fountain's strange appearance.

Then they heard a voice behind them: "Hey guys!"

They turned around and saw Kyle coming toward them, wearing the same black and white flannel from the night before, and holding a cup of Starbucks coffee.

"Hey, Kyle," Kenny said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on my way to training."

"He's teaching in China again this summer," Wendy explained.

"Teaching English?" Kenny asked stupidly.

"Yeah, I'm so excited," Kyle said.

"What do they teach you in training?" Kenny asked, as they started to walk together. Taking a look at Kyle, he noticed he hadn't shaved that morning.

Kyle laughed. "What not to do, mostly. We have to watch these awful videos, all of people messing up in front of a class full of kids. It's really nerve-wracking. Like, you feel embarrassed for them. But the good news is the leader of training, who's a Chinese professor here, singled me out for doing a good job."

"Really?" Wendy said.

"That's cool," Kenny said, not really caring. Kyle's accomplishments sometimes wore on him.

The three of them walked together a ways, until Kyle had to disappear down another corridor to get to training, promising to see them later. When it was just the two of them, Wendy led Kenny to a strange metal sculpture, consisting of closely-grouped, wavy but roughly parallel lines about eight feet tall. When they stepped between a pair of them, all their words echoed.

"And look up," Wendy said.

Kenny saw the walls bent together up top, as though the metal had wobbled or bent when it was still molten. You could see the sky overhead.

"So this is called 'The Hedgehog and the Fox,'" she said.

"Why?" Kenny asked.

Wendy thought for a second as they started walking through to the other side. "I guess I don't actually know. It's some modern..."

"Yeah, the name doesn't make sense."

"But I like the echo effect on your words in here. It's kind of a fun place to go."

They walked on to find Stan and Token waiting for them outside Wu dining hall.

The plates inside were ceramic and different colors; Kenny's was orange. There were different food stations, and behind one a guy in a chef's hat made big fluffy omelets, with students' choice of ingredients.

Since it was such a gorgeous day, Token had chosen a seat by one of the large windows. By the time Kenny sat down, Wendy, Stan, and Token had been waiting for a minute. They had not wanted to start eating until he arrived, but they had not waited to get into conversation; Token had led them into holy waters with his Religion class. When Kenny sat down they all dug in. Token's plate was piled especially high with food.

Token was writing a paper on the so-called four horsemen of new atheism, a guy named Harris. He was talking about how this proponent of atheism is actually much more spiritual than he lets on, talking about the "awe of nature." At this point the conversation shifted to Dawkins, about whom Token did not have a lot of good to say.

"Dude, don't you remember? We had Dawkins in our class. He was banging Mr. Garrison? How can you not remember this?" Stan was saying, but Kenny was having a hard time paying attention. Just like when Kyle had been talking in Frist the night before. More and more often over the past year, Kenny had found that the sound of people talking got fuzzy pretty quickly as his attention drifted. Token especially had a tendency to talk about academic stuff at mind-numbing length. And as Kenny's mind wandered, he found himself staring at a fly on the corner of the table. It was just sitting there. Occasionally it made minute adjustments to its position on the table. It was a simple thing to look at.

Then in a lull in the conversation, Wendy said across the table, "Kenny, are you okay?"

Kenny came to. All three of them were looking at him. "Yeah. Fine," he said.

"Dude, we're gonna go for a walk," Stan said as Token was clearing his part of the table. Kenny hadn't finished his meal. He didn't like to be wasteful, but he put his plate up with the others.

After leaving Wu the four of them went over to the University Chapel. Someone was playing the organ inside, and you could just hear it outside on the grass.

"Okay, guys, I have to go," Token said. Kenny didn't want him to; he rarely got to see Token, and his company was worth occasionally being bored. But Token insisted that he had a lot of work to do, and headed out, agreeing that they would see each other later.

The remaining members of the party stepped inside the chapel.

It seemed dark at first. Then, as Kenny's eyes adjusted, he saw long candles burning by the seats. Most of the light came through the stained glass high above, illuminating the spacious and very pretty chapel. Here and there people sat in the pews, praying silently over the loud organ music. Wendy pointed out some pipes sticking horizontally out of a wall at the back of the chapel, opposite the pulpit, in addition to the ones sticking up vertically. "Those blare a kind of trumpet sound over the audience," she said. "Maybe the organist will use them…"

Inspecting a plaque, Kenny learned that each stained glass window was in memory of so and so. Stones in the walls were also engraved with memorials. Some people had died very young and had recent stones: Class of 2008, Class of 2007. It occurred to Kenny that there were people from his high school class who he might never see again. What if they'd waved goodbye as they set off for college and then died before coming back to town? The chapel made him think of "Box of Rain" by the Grateful Dead. "In and out the window / like a moth before a flame... / Such a long, long time to be gone / and a short time to be there." He usually kept it quiet that he liked them, lest he incur the wrath of Cartman, still Dead-hating after all these years, but that song especially was one of his favorites. Now it occurred to him that Wendy might like it too; she tended to like quiet, thoughtful, but not depressing music. The sound of the song seemed to fit the outdated style of the building; he felt like he could be in the 60s, or at least a movie set in the 60s at some big fancy school like this.

Kenny was reading the long list of names of alumni who had died in wars, having moved on from the long list of dead chaplains, when Wendy nudged him and asked if he was ready to go.

She, Stan, and Kenny took a walk downtown. Outside a record store was a long line. Wendy asked someone standing there (a middle-aged man with a shaved head and a giant black t-shirt covering the beginnings of a beer belly) what it was for, and he said, "Record Store Day. Big discounts. And They Might Be Giants are signing shirts."

"They Might Be Giants?" Wendy asked curiously.

"Are they here?" Stan asked.

"Yes," the man said. "Playing a free, outdoor show at 6 in front of the library. Y'all should go."

"Y'all? Where is he from?" Kenny asked as they walked away.

"Do y'all feel like going to that?" Stan asked.

Wendy shrugged. "It could be fun. Does anybody know their music?"

None of them did, but Kenny said he wouldn't mind seeing a free concert. Nobody else had much of an opinion on the matter, so that settled it.

Wendy led them to the square where the concert would take place. A stage had already been set up there, but nobody in the square was paying much attention to it. So Wendy led them inside the public library, which made Pueblo's, not to mention South Park's, look like crap. Kenny was particularly wowed by their selection of CDs. There were aisles of them, with tons of genres and artists.

Back outside, Stan said he was feeling tired, and they stopped inside a coffee shop so he could get a drink. The place was crowded, and the table they found was stuffed with old, unshaven men reading books about tough things like economic theory. Still thinking about the library, Wendy talked specifically about the Hemingway books she had read and liked, while she and Kenny drank water. They sat there for a time after they had finished their drinks, talking about books they read. Kenny surprised himself by how much he contributed; he normally didn't have the attention span for books, but freshman year he had spent so much time alone and without a laptop that books were pretty much his only source of entertainment. He had read mostly westerns and Stephen King, whereas Stan had read mostly sci-fi.

At Stan's suggestion, they walked to the quad where his roommate at CC, Isaac, was staying with a childhood friend. The guys who lived in the suite were out, but Isaac was lying asleep on a pullout bed in the main room. Stan said, "Hey, Isaac," and Isaac gradually came to, until the clock swam into view, at which point he quickly sat up. It was about 2:30.

He sat over the edge of the bed in just his underwear, running his hands through his hair. Then he looked up and saw Wendy.

"Oh hi," he said, sounding suddenly embarrassed. He pulled on some jeans as Kenny flopped down on the couch opposite a big-screen TV. Then Isaac said something about a shower, went into one of the rooms to retrieve his toiletries, and headed off toward the bathroom.

Again, Kenny was amazed by how nice the dorm was. The suite had a fireplace. Hardwood floors. The windows had many panels, making them look old—and indeed it was an old building. But the room was cluttered with college student stuff: empty liquor bottles and beer cans, random bicycle tires, speakers, tons of books and pens… and on the coffee table, _Settlers of Catan_. Nothing better to do till They Might Be Giants, so he and Stan and Wendy sat down for a game.

Kenny connected his iPod to the speakers and played the Grateful Dead for Wendy. Stan snorted.

"I've been listening a lot to the Byrds lately," Wendy said as Stan made his first move. "Like just their _Greatest Hits_. It has this very nice, breezy feel."

With the windows open, in that old dorm, in that cluttered room, Kenny could see why people loved that. He felt almost like he was from the time of "Box of Rain."

Isaac came back from his shower and struggled to find something to do, until finally he resigned himself to watching, half-interested, while the three of them played out the game they'd started.

"Hey Isaac," Stan said. "They Might Be Giants are playing later. It's free. You wanna come?"

"Sure," Isaac said, eyes fixed vacantly on the board.

Kenny was kicking butt, but no one was feeling competitive or edgy. It was a fun game. Having scored a monopoly on almost all resources, Kenny found himself giving them away. "Well, I don't really want any wood or anything, so I'll just give you the sheep. I've got too many of the damn things." Isaac looked at him, a little surprised.

Dylan came back and greeted them all. He and Isaac took a seat before the big-screen TV and turned on an N64, which Kenny hadn't even noticed. He had had an N64 at his house starting in eighth grade, long after it had been replaced by better consoles; it was strange to see one here. Dylan and Isaac played _Mario Kart_ with the volume turned up, so Kenny went over to turn off the Grateful Dead. Soon they switched from _Mario Kart _to _Smash Bros_. The two of them seemed to really be competing at whatever they played. Maybe it was just because _Settlers of Catan _was such an un-intense game that the contrast seemed striking, and maybe what Isaac and Dylan were doing didn't really say anything about them. But Kenny reflected he couldn't remember a time since they were kids that he and his friends had competed over anything. Not even over girls.

"Hey, I'm thinking about texting Token to see if he wants to see the band tonight," Wendy said. "Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Oh, yeah, that sounds excellent," Kenny said.

Token quickly responded that he would love to They Might Be Giants at 6. He would be busy until 5.

Passing time after _Catan_, they said goodbye to Dylan and Isaac and headed back to Wendy's room. There she gathered a few things and took them out to the courtyard to have a picnic: cheese and crackers and these weird raisin-y things that Kenny thought tasted like oranges. Wendy had brought her laptop and she played a bit of music. Some dark clouds had moved in while they'd been at Dylan's.

"Wendy, I saw that poster in your room last night," Kenny said.

"What poster?"

"The 'If Bored, Read This, Do That' poster. I'm impressed by your work ethic."

Wendy laughed. Slowly, as if choosing her words, she said, "Well, it's not really a work-ethic, so much as a desire to not slack off. I want to do something useful with my time." Maybe no Princeton student had asked her about it before because it just made sense to them.

"I know what you mean," Stan said. "Like I signed up for all these extra-curriculars this year to keep myself from slacking off. I kind of overcommitted myself. But the thing is, I usually wind up slacking off anyway."

Stan sang in the choir at school. Kenny had seen them perform once. They did mostly old-sounding stuff. It was funny to see that alternative-loving, atheist boy singing old songs about God, but Kenny had kind of liked it. Stan was sensitive, and it seemed like the music spoke to him.

"I tried to keep Benjamin Franklin's ten commandments or whatever on my wall at school," Stan said. "Do you know the ones I'm talking about?"

"I think so," Wendy said. "What are they again?"

"Don't waste time, don't talk about useless stuff, don't spend tons of money…"

"Never had trouble with that one," Kenny said.

"Just to have a structured routine," Stan said. "And disciprine."

"That sounds more personal than work-related," Wendy said.

Stan thought that over and then agreed.

It didn't matter about that stuff; they all seemed to do okay in school no matter what they did. No matter that Kenny's resistance to doing work had gone beyond procrastination and become a part of his personality. Because there had never been any consequences for anything they'd ever done, that Kenny knew of. Everything worked out. It was hard to say why. It had just always happened that way.

One of Wendy's friends, a guy named Emperor Claudius, stopped by their spread-out blanket on his way out of the dorm. He had a scraggly orange beard and glasses, but he was slight and stooped—more nerdy than scholarly. Wearing black. He had an umbrella with him.

"You've got a bumbershoot," Kenny said.

"It's a parasol," said Claudius. "Do you guys think it's going to rain?"

You could smell it a little in the air, but no one could say one way or the other.

"Are you coming to the concert tonight, Claudius?" Stan asked.

"Oh, Claudius, They Might Be Giants are playing. Don't you like them? You should come."

"I heard about the concert," Claudius said. "I was on my way now."

"Why don't you come with us?" Wendy asked.

"Yeah, don't go alone," Stan said.

"Hm," Claudius said, his face very serious as he thought it over. He was looking at a spot behind them, maybe in the corner of the courtyard. His parasol he kept pointing straight into the ground. "All right," he concluded.

"I think that's Kyle over there," Wendy said.

Sure enough, Kyle was emerging from some steps at one side of the courtyard. Wendy ran back inside to put up her laptop. Before long, Token showed up too, and the group of them found Isaac outside of Dylan's dorm. Kyle had been in teaching training all day, while Token had managed to get some serious work done on a paper or two.

On the walk into town, Kyle and Kenny fell into a conversation. It had been a while since they'd seen each other, and they hadn't yet gotten a chance to talk, so Kyle led with, "Dude, what's been up in Pueblo?" sounding completely thrilled to see Kenny.

Kenny regretted not being able to match his enthusiasm. "Um, nothing much, just sitting around. You know. The usual."

"I don't know! What's the usual?"

"Well, I get to see Cartman every once in a while, that's not bad."

"Not bad? Are you sure?" Kyle laughed. There probably wasn't actually any animosity between them anymore, but they both still liked to crack jokes about each other.

"Well, he's doing all right," Kenny said. "But I guess I never learn that much from him. Like what's he up to, I mean."

The deflection worked, and he and Kyle started talking about Cartman and other people from South Park High, like Wendy had mentioned people sometimes did in one-on-one situations. He and Kyle had definitely not had many of those since they were dating.

When they got to the crowded square outside the public library where TMBG were going to play, the conversation turned to film. Kyle had gotten interested in it. Apparently he had signed up for some film class, Theory of Queer Cinema or something like that, and liked the professor a lot and now wanted to direct. He was talking to Stan about it, since Stan had also gotten sort of into film. Kenny looked up at a cloud. The gray ones had parted to reveal a single small, puffy, white one, thousands of feet above. It was coming in over a rooftop, and in a little bit of space around it was blue sky. Kenny was thinking about what he'd seen in the chapel, the memorial stones to people who were no more than kids. "Box of Rain" was still in his head. Slowly the gray clouds closed in on the white one, and afterward, Kenny tuned back in to Kyle and Stan's conversation. They seemed natural together, like not much time had passed since they were friends. Kenny reflected that Kyle could get interested in anything. But he also wanted to see Kyle direct. He didn't have to be a master. For some reason, Kenny just hoped he would do it.

The concert started and Kyle and Token and Stan and Isaac hovered on the edge, having their own conversations.

"Wanna get closer?" Kenny asked Wendy, and she nodded.

They pushed through the crowd until it got too tight up near the stage, and when Kenny looked over, he was surprised to see Claudius standing next to them. He had forgotten about Claudius.

TMBG were old nerds. Kenny couldn't understand a word they were saying because the sound was traveling all over the square. He knew their music was supposed to be funny. Without the humor, their music was just okay to him. Wendy shouted in his ear and pointed out all the kids on their parents' shoulders, bouncing up and down in unison while their parents rocked back and forth excitedly. The kids looked pretty solemn. Claudius looked pretty solemn too. He had both hands on the handle of his parasol and was resting the tip between his feet.

After a few songs Kenny and Wendy went back to the group. Claudius said he'd linger on to see the rest of the concert, and bid them farewell.

"Do you guys wanna go?" Kyle asked when they're returned to the group.

"Yeah, kind of," Kenny said. He felt bad admitting he wasn't into the music, so he didn't. "Claudius is staying here. You guys wanna go get dinner?"

"Sure," Kyle said, turning to Token. "Is there anywhere you wanna go?"

Token thought about it. "Well, there's that Indian restaurant across the street. We could try that."

As they crossed the street, Kyle was still on the subject of film. He told Kenny, "I'd like to film every day in China. I think it'd be important. Even if it's just insignificant moments."

"Like what?"

"Like, I don't know, somebody brushing their teeth, or all of us going up an escalator… And it'd give a feel for the trip. Hopefully I'd find better stuff than that, though."

"So it'd be sort of like Holden tap-dancing in the bathroom," Kenny said.

"Huh?"

"You know. Holden has that scene where he says, oh, what does he say. 'I'm the goddamn little ol' governor's son, but tap-dancing's in my blood.' And he's tap-dancing all over the bathroom. Something like that."

"Yeah," Kyle said. "And I was thinking also I might like to write every day."

As they stood at the side of the door to let a party come out, Kyle said quietly, "I wrote a glowing review of this place."

"You write for some publication, don't you?"

Thankfully Kyle didn't ask how Kenny knew that. _Google told me so_ would not have been a good response.

Instead, he just said yes and described the article, which began with the words "I've had a handful of life-changing experiences…" and listed "Call Me Maybe" and _Drag Me to Hell _among them, before introducing the restaurant to the pantheon.

They walked in the place and were seated, Kenny taking a seat across from Kyle at the end of the table, where they could continue their conversation. "When did you start doing writing?" he asked.

"Well, when I first came to Princeton, I wanted to expose myself to as much as possible. So I just applied for a job at the paper and they gave me one. I don't think I ever wrote a negative thing, though…"

"But what made you want to do that?"

"Well, I remembered some of you and, well, Cartman's writing, actually, in high school. It was pretty impressive."

A waiter poured them some water, and Kenny gratefully took a drink.

"Dude, I don't know what you read in high school, but my writing was fucking awful then."

"I disagree!" Kyle said. "I didn't think that at the time and I don't think it now. Remember your submissions for the literary magazine?"

"Oh god." Kenny remembered them all too well. "Cartman was always good, though."

"Cartman wrote good essays," Kyle said, "but you wrote good short stories."

"Ugh."

"Because writing fiction requires an emotional maturity Cartman didn't have but you did."

"Emotional maturity?" Kenny smirked.

"Yeah. I'd like to do that now. Write creative writing." He hesitated. "I wasn't really a very emotionally mature person until recently. Not that I'm a complete work of art now." He took a drink before he continued. "But back then I was boxed into this really constricting little closet. And I couldn't find anything to write about. Even though I did try." He laughed. "It was really bad."

Kenny tried to think of something to say, but he thought too slowly.

Kyle said, "Do you write every day?"

"I do, but usually not fiction," Kenny said.

"You write about your life?"

"Yeah. I'm not very good at coming up with things. So I just write about my life. When are you gonna start writing creatively?"

"Well, I signed up for a class last semester. Meaning I'd do it next semester. And Joyce Carol Oates teaches one and I'd really like to get with her."

"Holy crap," Kenny said.

"I've heard that she just steals from her students' lives. Like she asks them about their past and then she uses that in stories."

"Really?"

They both laughed.

"I don't think I'd have anything interesting to give her," Kyle said.

"I don't think that's true," Kenny said truthfully.

"I guess it's not, after all we've been through," Kyle laughed.

Kenny momentarily turned his attention to Token, who was studying the menu. Token was the only one of them who really had experience with Indian food.

Then he said, "You know, Kyle, I would love to read anything you wanted to send me."

Kyle laughed, but Kenny was serious. "Like what?" Kyle asked.

"Anything. Your thoughts or your feelings. Or just about your day. Or short stories. I don't know. Things unrelated to the paper or corny prompts you'll probably get in class."

"I don't know," Kyle said. "I don't really like the idea of being critiqued."

"Well, first of all, that's probably all they'll do in this class. Second of all, I don't want to critique you, I just want to read how you feel. Your genuine thoughts or whatever."

"Well, it would have to be a two-way street," Kyle said.

"Yeah, that's true."

But Kyle didn't seem so interested. The waiter came around and Token ordered for the table. Once the waiter had left Kyle started talking to Stan about something. Kenny tried to get Isaac involved in the conversation; he seemed to be hovering at the edge uncomfortably. But he managed to loosen up, and they were all having a pretty good time. Then, in a moment of silence, Wendy, who had been pretty quiet since they'd left the concert, said something upsetting.

"Guys, I'm sorry about Claudius coming."

"It's cool, he seemed like a pretty nice guy," Stan said.

"Well, I'm not apologizing. Just let me explain. Claudius's girlfriend committed suicide over spring break. He's kind of had a hard time with school. I thought he should come with us."

"Oh, jeez," everyone said, momentarily stunned by that news.

Kenny started to feel real depressed now that suicide was on the table. He had died so many times. Death was somehow tangled up with his destiny. He had tried suicide. And especially in the face of Kyle and Token's success and sure success in the future, he found he thought about suicide pretty often, although he hadn't done it in a year or so. But it seemed so severe, Claudius's girlfriend's action. She couldn't come back. It must be hard, Kenny thought, when your partner commits suicide. You're supposed to give them support through everything. Stability is supposed to be the name of the game. But she couldn't talk to him and he couldn't support her. Maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe that was how Claudius felt, though, on an intellectual level above the bleak sadness. Kenny felt bad for him. And he felt bad for himself too.

The Indian food came. Kenny was never really crazy about Indian food. The meal was all right. People stopped talking as much once they had started eating. After a bit, Kenny stood up without a word and went to the bathroom. They had a weird thing in there where the toilet was elevated and across from the mirror, so you were staring yourself in the face while you were sitting there. _Indian people are really weird_, Kenny thought. And they had weird food, too.

They split the bill evenly and left the restaurant too stuffed for dessert, which had been the original plan. It was now dark. They walked back onto campus and Isaac said goodnight, split for the four-man, Peptobismol, and _Smash Bros_.

It was now a group of old friends. Token, Wendy, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny stood around talking about plans for the evening. Kyle reminded them of the drag show that night. And Token said there was some sort of Engineering School pageant going on. Both were at eating clubs, about which Kenny had heard more than there probably actually was to them.

"Well, I've got a lot of work to do," Wendy said. It hit Kenny that it was a pretty busy time of year, and it must have been hard for Token, Kyle, and Wendy to find time to work when they were hosting old friends. She continued, "But I can maybe catch up with you later tonight or just tomorrow."

Still feeling bad from the restaurant, Kenny said, "I might go with you."

"No, you should stay out and have fun," Wendy said.

"Well, if you do stay in, I don't want to have to wake you up late at night when I come back."

"Don't worry about it," Wendy said. "I really won't mind. I want you to have fun."

After a little more convincing, they went their separate ways, Kenny staying with his guy friends from high school. As they set off down the path, he had a feeling that by the end of the night he would be glad he did.

* * *

Basically just moving toward the third chapter, the final night of the visit. All trips seem to have climaxes-that chapter'll be it. Thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying the story!


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